Precious Moments
by MimiK
Summary: I will never leave you, she had promised. No one can hide from loss and grief, not even the great elven king. Thranduil/Canonical Wife


_**Precious Moments**_

_I will never leave you_, she had promised.

The promise had been given on the battlefield. Given with the last effort, from lips of a dying body. In his darkest hours, he remembered how the life left her, how she slowly faded away. From one blink of the eye to another, he was alone. His love had been gone and every joy of his life with her.

_I will never leave you_. Those words haunted him for decades.

Every time he looked at his son all the memories, the reminiscence of her eyes, her smile and the sweetness of her voice returned. He wasn't able to send Legolas away. He was his son, his heir. They only had each other.

Somehow, she kept her promise. In the precious moments between sleep and early morning awakening she returned to him. Then he could feel her body close to his in their bed. Her voice whispered words of love and sometimes she answered his soft spoken questions.

From time to time, he caught sight of her deep in the woods or in the mists over a hidden waterfall. He followed the silvery tone of her laughter in the nights of the full moon. In these moments, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm mourned for his dead wife. Hidden in the shadows, he wept about the loss.

The men with their simple minds often spoke about ghosts and haunted places. For most of them the elves alone were spirits of the woods. Thranduil knew that there were many things not-knowing people would see as mysterious and illusion. But in the end, there wasn't such thing as returning from the dead. Even the immortal elves were able to die – and none of them would ever return.

He was a king. A father, too. He had to cope with his grief, his fears.

There had been a lot of things, he tried to silence his thoughts, to keep away every memory. All her belongings had been hide away from his sight in a separate room, but the small chamber became a precious place for him. The numbing effect of wine had seemed to work, but for a while only and the increasing amount of required dose frightened him soon or later.

In the end, the mighty elven king of Mirkwood surrounded his heart with a shield of ice. He allowed no cheerful thought, no worries to touch his heart again. The concern of his people and them alone became his focus.

He was successful in his doing. The moments of fictitious reunion faded away as her life had done so long ago.

But without any joyful thought, greed raised in him. It was the greed for gold and other things of value. Although he was aware that this desire was a replacement for more valued things only, he welcomed it. He allowed himself to be covered by it until he was outshine in brightness everything.

Jewels and gems shielded him from any harm his heart could cause. An aura of superiority surrounded him and no living being or even a single thought was allowed to pierce through it.

All this went on for a long, long time. Thranduil enjoyed his fame as mighty, farouche king, who collected everything exquisite and treasurable for his delight.

But times changed and even for an elven king they changed quickly.

Words were spread about the dwarves returning to Erebor. They would challenge Smaug for claiming the mountain, it was said. Thranduil knew about the wealth the dragon had plundered from the dwarves so many years ago. When the rumour was true, he thought, an army at Erebor could support his claims for some parts of the treasure.

The words had been true and when the dragon had been defeated, all ended in a great battle. In the end, dwarves and men fought the army of darkness, and the elves of Mirkwood were with them. They triumphed, but the victory was bitter. Many lives were lost that day.

When the king returned from the battle at the gates of Erebor, the ice around his heart was shattered. The glorious shine that had used to cover him for so long now seemed to have dark spots of mud from the battlefield.

A great sadness surrounded Thranduil. Many of his people had died. His son had left him to wander other shores of Middle Earth. It was uncertain, if Legolas would ever return to Mirkwood.

The king had seen the infinite grief in Tauriel's eyes, when she had lost the love of her life. He knew, what she felt, and tried to find the right words to ease the pain. But in the end she went way away, too.

Alone again. Without those dear to him and deprived of his shield of self-deception, the elven king felt vulnerable to the burden of his kingship and to the returning feelings. He thought of retiring from the world.

_You can't go._ Her voice returned to him.

He tried to block it, knowing that he couldn't cope with the memories.

_Don't_, she asked him.

Thranduil held his breath. Was he so foolish to believe something that was unbelievable? Did his lonesomeness make him susceptible to illusion again? Was it a madness born from a deep desire like dragon sickness used to be?

Deep inside him the longing to believe struggled with the hard-headed impulse to shield himself another time. How could he bare to be reminded of the loss and grief over and over again?!

_Why did you return?_ He finally asked, feeling that he would never give up these precious moments once more.

Her answer was a gentle touch that caressed his tortured soul. _I promised that I'll never leave you_, her voice whispered, _and I never will_.


End file.
